Forgotten
by Black Triforce
Summary: Two brothers. Each different, yet excatly the same. When the forgotten runs, the other must bring him back. Please and and reivew AU
1. The Beginning

Black Triforce: Erm… This is just a random idea so… yeah. I just feel like writing about DL. 

Disclaimer: No, no; never will I own the Legend of Zelda. Well, if I'm really really really lucky maybe. But not at the moment no.

* * *

_You know we can't throw him out; he's just a child!_

_What I know is that you hate him as much as I do!_

_But what would others say?_

_What about what they're saying now!_

_…_

_Answer me!_

I was sitting on the floor of the bathroom with my knees pulled up close and my head resting on my arms. I could hear everything. I could hear the fighting. The arguing. The yelling. It tore me up inside. **They** were fighting about me.

That was seven years ago.

This is now.

**They **refuse to call me their son. That's fine with me. I refuse to call **them** my parents. **They** still hate me. Even if **they** don't show it. At least… I know that **he** hates me. **He** gets on to me, yells at me, wonders out loud how I could possibly be his child. **She**'s a mystery though. **She** might. **She** might not. **She** doesn't show it. **She** doesn't talk about the fight I heard or the more recent ones. I only know that even if **she** doesn't hate **me**, she still doesn't love me either.

But that's fine with me too.

I can't honestly say I've ever loved them. **They** don'tcare about me so I don'tcare about **them**. There's only one person in this damn family who does. But he's also a person I hate. He's the symbol our their affection. The epitome of the perfect son; gets good grades, respectful, doesn't look like a demon, doesn't do all the things I do. It's isn't _his_ fault that I just happen to be _his_ twin. It isn't _his_ fault I turned out this way. No… it's never _his_ fault. Whatever happens, no matter what it is, it's always _my_ fault.

Mine.

That's why I ran. I just packed my backpack and ran. I couldn't stand being in a house filled with hate. Hate that was all being shot towards me. I couldn't stand the pity either. The pity from him.

My brother.

* * *

Black Triforce: Okay, that was just a really short first chapter. The next chapter will be from his brother's POV. I hope it will be a bit longer. Now, please review on your way out. It will only take about a minute or so and it would be helpful. Thank you. 


	2. Yelling and Screaming

Black Triforce: As I'm typing this, the first chapter hasn't even shown up on this site yet. Go figure. Oh FanFictionFantom, most of my serious stories tend to be alternate. It's just easier for me.

* * *

It must've started all those years ago, when our parents first began fighting. I got scared when it all started and ran to look for my brother. I found him in the upstairs bathroom. He was just sitting there on the floor, not moving. I asked him if he was okay even though I could tell he wasn't. He lifted his head a little and I knew he had been crying. 

_They hate me. I know they do. I heard them. And you know what? I hate them back._

His words still stick with me to this day. I had no real idea that he felt like that. I was even more surprised at our parents. I mean, how could they say something like that about their own child? As the years went by, things only got worse. Our family seemed to grow further and further apart. Dad yelled more and lost his temper easier. Mom became less talkative. And D… he just closed himself off to other people.

He would spend hours upon hours locked in his room. Whenever I would walk by I could hear the blaring, yelling music he played through the door. Sometimes I could even hear him screaming along with it. It scared me. It honestly did. But the night that he ran…

It scared me even more.

The day started out like normal; we had the usual silent breakfast and then it was off to school. The bus ride back home was pretty normal too. I sat near the front while D sat as far away from me as he possibly could. I turned once to look at him and he was slumped down in his seat with the hood of his black sweatshirt up and headphones on.

It was when we got home that things got bad.

As soon as we stepped into the house, our parents were there wanting to see both of our grades. That when I remembered our report cards came home that day. I showed them mine; two B's, everything else A's, all fours in citizenship. They told me simply to try a little harder to grading period. D threw his on the table and was about to go upstairs up but our father demanding that he stay put. My brother stood with his foot on the first step.

His grades weren't much worse than mine; Two B's, everything A's, mostly fours in citizenship. But our father yelled that he was lazy. Our mother just stood there staring at the piece of paper. D merely turned and went upstairs to lock himself in his world.

A few minutes later the music and the screaming started.

Later that night, our mother quietly asked me to check on my brother. I knocked on his door then opened it hesitantly. I was surprised it wasn't locked. The lights were off but I could see D's huddled form in the corner. I walked over to him slowly and asked him if he was okay. I heard a laugh.

_Am I okay? Would you be okay knowing that no matter what you do, it wouldn't mean anything because your so-called parents refuse to acknowledge you? Would you be okay if your perfect brother pitied you so much that he would come into your room and try to talk about if you're okay even though it's obvious you're not? Answer that, my brother. Try and answer that._

I stood there as his words and the ones he said so long ago flooded over me. All of a sudden I wanted to scream. He didn't understand. I never wanted him to get in trouble. I _wanted_ our parents to get at _me_. I purposely didn't try that much to get good grades. I _wanted_ to be punished. For once in my life I didn't want to be perfect.

Then… I snapped.

"Look! I've never pitied you and I never will! I'm… I'm just worried about you damn it! Whether we like it or not, we're brothers and nothing we ever do will change that! So for once in your life come out of your little world and talk to me! The only person pitying you is yourself!" I had never yelled at anyone like that. I shouldn't have yelled at him like that. Maybe if I hadn't yelled at him, he wouldn't have run.

_Get out. Just get. Out. I hate you… I hate you! Leave me alone!_

Those would be the final words he ever said in our house for a long, long time. For that night, my brother ran away. Only I didn't know it then.

The next morning I went back to D's room to apologize. I felt horrible about yelling at him. He got it enough from our father. But when I tried to knock on the door I found that it was already partially open. I went inside but my brother was nowhere to be seen. After looking around his room I discovered that his backpack, drawing supplies, and headphones had disappeared also. Then I found the note. It was lying on his bed. It was hastily written and small blotches dotted the paper. (I wasn't really sure if I wanted to know what they were.) This is what it said:

_I'm doing you a favor by leaving! I know you wanted me too! Don't try to find me; I'm not coming back! I'm no longer your son! I'm sick of all the hate being shot towards me! I hate your pity! I HATE YOU!_

Without any thought I ran to our parents' room. I pounded on the door and called out, "He's missing! He's gone!" Our mother opened the door with a look of horror spread across her face. I tried to explain what I had found but our father silenced me. He said he didn't care that D had gone. He said that he was finally doing something right for once. I couldn't believe what he was saying.

But our mother was different.

She begged me to go and try to find him. She said she would call the police. She ignored all arguments from our father. I was thankful for her that day. Without her, nothing would have happened. I ran to my room and got dressed, grabbed my pack, and left. I would find him.

My brother.

* * *

Black Triforce: Okay, the next chapter will be from D again because I alternate between the two. Please review; it would be greatly appreciated. 


	3. Bus to Elsewhere

Black Triforce: I forgot to mention this in the disclaimer; I also do not own anything else that happens to appear in this story except for one or two original characters. And… the bold stuff in chapter one was D talking about his parents._

* * *

_

_So how does it feel  
And how does it feel..._

I was sitting in the back of a bus heading nowhere, elsewhere, and anywhere but home; listening to one of my drugs. Even with my head turned with my red eyes staring out the dim window, I could feel their stares. Disapproval, hate, and unease; all of them coupled with judgmental thoughts. I didn't care. I had long since hardened myself against people. Their prejudice and stupidity amazes me sometimes.

Haven't they ever seen a run-away before?

Sighing slightly, I reached into my backpack that was sitting beside me and pulled out the book. It's filled with the drawings no one besides me has ever seen. Well… that's not entirely true. I tried to show **her,** once. It was about a week after I overheard the fight. I didn't want to hate **her**. I wanted to show **her** that I was good at something. That there was something **she** could be proud of.

I remember giving it to **her.** I had a stupid little grin plastered on my face. **She** stared at the picture for what seemed like forever, then looked at me and said that it was nice. **She** was smiling, but it wasn't kind smile or a thank-you-very-much smile. It was a pained smile that asked me why.

_Why can't you draw normal things? Why can't you draw cute block people that most children your age do? Like your brother does? Why can't you be normal?_

**She** handed me back my drawing and left the room to return to whatever **she** was doing before. I glanced at the refrigerator where my brother's scribbles hung. All of them were bad; my brother had admitted it himself. But **they** thought his art were masterpieces.

**They** were _proud_ of him.

That was the day I gave up ever getting **them** to acknowledge me, much less love me. I tore up the drawing. I watched the pieces all fall on the ground along with the remnants of my hope. But that was back when I cared.

_Hey mister, what are you drawing? Can I see mister, pretty please?_

A small boy's voice pulled me back into reality. He was looking up at me expectantly. I glanced down at the book, unaware that I had been drawing. On my paper was the picture I had done so many years ago. It was a child clutching a stuffed bear with one arm. Their dark hair shadowed their face. The bear was missing one eye and blood oozed from the socket where it belonged. The child was holding the bear's eye in its hand. It was a little boy, much like the one standing next to me. Except…

It was me.

The boy's mother finally noticed whom her son was talking to. She quickly walked over and grabbed him by the arm. She scolded him for bothering me. Then she shot me a hateful glare. 'How dare I enchant her son!' was probably along the lines of what she was thinking. The woman turned and headed for the bus driver while dragging her son behind her. The little boy gave me an apologetic smile.

_I liked your picture mister! Honest! My mama's just being silly!_

I slumped back down into my seat as the bus slowed to a stop. Had I ever been like that? So trusting? So accepting of others? I just couldn't grasp it. To many years of hiding behind walls I guess. It's not like it mattered. My eyes closed as I tried to empty my mind. But one voice denied me that relief.

_Hey, mind if I sit here?_

Standing in front of me, with her head cocked to one side, was a girl. She was tall with a black messenger bag slung over her left shoulder. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail except for some shorter bangs. Figures flew, dance, crawled, and fought up the legs of her ripped jeans. The girl didn't wait for my answer either. She merely sat down in the seat across from me and smiled.

_Where're ya going?_

I must admit it; she was pretty brave. She sitting near the demon boy, ignoring all the stares from the others on the bus, and was talking to him also. Of course, just because she was didn't mean that she'd get an answer. After a few seconds of silence, I thought she'd give up. But the girl seemed to be studying me.

_Oh! I shouldn't go into stuff that isn't my business. Sorry. _

Realizing she wasn't going to leave anytime soon, I started studying _her_. That's when I noticed the marks that were scattered along her arms. All of them were small, like she had been scratched by something. On her left wrist though, there was brown and orange yarn. It seemed to be covering something. Then the girl laughed.

_Looking at my scars I see. That's okay, a lot of people do. Wanna hear 'bout 'em?_

I nodded. I was interested in learning about a person who, just possibly, might be as fucked up as I am. She told me that some of them actually were scratch marks from her evil possessed cat. The rest of them were marks she made herself. She made them look like scratches also so her parents wouldn't worry.

_It's not like I'm suicidal. Don't get me wrong here. It's just… I like the blood and the short moment of pain. _

I told her that I didn't think she was suicidal. From the way she was smiling earlier, it was clear she had something to live for. Staring at the girl's scars made me remember the blood soaked toilet paper wrapped around my own wrist. I asked her if see wanted to see it. She happily agreed. I rolled up the black sleeve of my sweatshirt untied the toilet paper.

Under it were two deep cuts in the shape of an X. The girl shivered; obviously impressed. She told me she would never be able to do that. She laughed again. _Too much of a wuss,_ she said. Not crazy and pain driven enough like me.

_So… you never did answer my question. Where are you going? Judging from that mark you're a run-away. Is it really that bad at home?_

I nodded and told her everything. I told here about them, the fight, my brother, and my drawings. I didn't even know her name, who she was, or where she came from. I only knew about her scars. And you know what?

I didn't care.

It just felt good to tell someone. And the girl just sat there and listened, never interrupting. At that moment it seemed like she was the only person who has ever really listened to me in my entire life. I was happy. For once in my damned life, I was happy.

When I finished my tale the girl leaned back into her seat, staring off in space. She looked at me and then at her bag. Finally, she came to some kind of decision and pulled out a small notepad. The girl tore a page off of it then checked it over before handing it to me. The bus once again slowed to a stop. The girl got up.

_It's been very interesting talking to you. I think you'll fit in. Gotta go though, I've got a therapy session. My parents got a hold of some of the things I write. It just had to be poetry about death didn't it? _She turned. _Oh by the way, the name's Linear. See ya._

With that, she walked down the isle and exited the bus. When the bus started moving again I inspected the paper Linear had given me. This it what it said:

**_Elsewhere  
_**_**378 Celtic Guard Lane  
****The place for those headed nowhere**_

Soon I was the last person on the bus. How long had I been sitting there in the back? I had didn't know. The driver turned around and looked at me.

_It's the end the of the line buddy, hurry up and decide. You gettin' off or what?_

Startled a little, I gathered my things and got off. As I watched the bus drive off I realized I had no idea where I was or where I was going. But then it hit me. I was nowhere. A smile formed on my face. And I _did_ know where I was going.

I was headed Elsewhere.

* * *

Black Triforce: Okay, that chapter was a little… weird. Anyway please review. Thank you. 


	4. Empty Conversation

Black Triforce: Sorry this update took so long. (muttering) I can't believe I was thinking about a sort-of-a-sequel to this! I'm not even done with the ones I've already started! (remembers readers) Oh, sorry. Here's the new chapter.

* * *

_Dear brother, I'm worried…_  
_I've never seen you act like…  
__You wanna take your life…_

I had been looking for nearly seven hours. And I had never hated anything as much as the local band blaring from the speakers inside the record store where D usually went to get his music. The song playing talked about a brother who was slowly breaking down but wouldn't listen to anyone who tried to help and eventually kills himself. I just couldn't take it.

It hit too close to home.

I ran into a nearby phone booth to try to drown the song out. On the verge of breaking down myself, I slid down to the floor of the booth and rested my head on my knees. After a few minutes I managed to collect myself. Standing up slowly I decided to use the phone while I was in there. Mom must've been getting worried. I inserted the money and waited for someone to pick up.

_Ring…_

Where could D be? Did he have a place in mind to go to? Did he even care anymore?

_Ring…_

Is all of this my fault? I know I shouldn't blame myself but… It feels like it is.

_Ring…_

What did I do wrong? When did things start going downhill? Why did this have to happen?

_Hello? Whatdya want?_

My father's voice pulled me from my thoughts back into reality. I blinked a few times before answering.

_Oh. Good it's you. You've already missed one day of school and I don't want you missin' anymore? So get back home. Now. Understand?_

I didn't reply. There was an annoyed sigh from the other end of the line.

_Look, forget about that boy. He ain't comin' back so you don't need to worrin' about him. That one obviously don't care about this family so you shouldn't care about him. Just like I said before, he was doing us a favor by leaving._

I almost couldn't believe what my father was saying. He hadn't called D his son. He just called him that boy and that one and him. He even had the nerve to tell me to forget about him. How could he expect me to do such a thing? D was my brother.

And that meant he was family, even if my father didn't think so.

As I tried to control myself I told him that I wanted to speak to my mother. I knew that she wouldn't demand that I come home. My father was starting to get angry, ranting and raving about how I was being foolish, that I had to come home or he would come and get me.

That's when I lost it.

Releasing all of my anger, I screamed at the man on the other end of the line who was no longer my father. I cursed him and said he had no right to talk about my brother like he was some kind of disease and that D was more of our family than he would ever be.

It was about time he got a taste of what he had done to my brother.

Trying not to laugh at the stunned silence on the other end, I calmly asked once more to speak to my mother. After a few moments of muttering, her voice came.

_Link? Oh thank goodness, you're okay. I was so worried about you. What happened? Your father said something about you being stubborn… what did he mean?_

I wasn't coming home. Not until I found D. And that was what I told her. (I decided not to tell her that I no longer called the man she married my father. I didn't want her to worry more than she had too.)

_I… I understand. You're probably just as worried about your brother as I am, if not more._

She hadn't said D. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe it was too painful.

_Well, I'll be waiting for you two. And… and maybe when you get back… I'll make those pancakes you both loved some much when you were little to celebrate. Be careful._

Even after she hung up my mother's voice echoed in my mind. She feigned hopefulness to make sure I wouldn't get discouraged. I sighed as I walked out of the booth. It was sad to think that D didn't see that our mother actually loved him.

It was even sadder to think that he might never.

I shook my head quickly. "Don't ever think that," I scolded myself. "Mom's trying not to, so why can't you! You have to find D for her. And for his own sake! Now get moving!"

And with that, I started off for the next place on my search.

**

* * *

**

Black Triforce: With that done… Sorry the chapters kind of short. It was going to be a bit longer and have more things happening in it but I decided that those events would work better in a later chapter. One more thing, I'm going out of town in two weeks so I'll **_try _**to update before I go. So now… you must… review! Or the St. Patches crew will get you!


End file.
